


After the wedding

by TooManyChoices



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, Post-Wedding, Say goodbye Tom, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyChoices/pseuds/TooManyChoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all know Molly saw Sherlock leave John and Mary's wedding. What happened if Sherlock didn't go back to Baker Street, but instead returned to Molly's flat for some emotional support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the wedding

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own BBC Sherlock, but I'm eternally grateful that the writers are willing to share them with us. 
> 
> I love feedback. Constructive Feedback helps me grow and improve. Keep telling me what you want and I'll keep writing it.

The drive home from John and Mary's wedding had been oddly quiet. Perhaps not so oddly, Molly considered as she watched Tom absently rub at the fork-marks on the back of his hand again. Honestly, she hadn't stabbed him that hard, no blood drawn and she thought perhaps he was trying to not so subtly seek an apology from her. If so, he'd be waiting all night. Meat dagger....seriously!

As the cab pulled up outside her London flat she glanced up to notice the light in the window. Sherlock, she thought. Sherlock was upstairs. That was unexpected. She'd never asked for her key back when he left to dismantle Moriarty's network and after he'd returned from his time away, she'd assumed he'd never use it again. 

"Umm, Tom" she began, knowing the detective's presence upstairs would be uncomfortable for everyone. Well, perhaps everyone but Sherlock she thought. "Look, it's been a long day and I think we could both use a little space and a good night's rest."

Tom nodded slowly, perhaps picking up on Molly's discomfort, perhaps sulking over her lack of solidarity at the wedding. Molly found, worryingly, that she didn't care terribly much which it was.

Molly paid the cab driver, passing on Tom's address as a 2nd destination and she stepped out of the cab without kissing Tom goodnight before climbing the stairs to her flat.

Pushing open the door, Molly looked to the the large easy chair that Sherlock had more or less appropriated during his time there. When Molly had made it clear that she refused to purchase a sofa simply so he could lay down to think, he'd adapted by achieving the seemingly impossible and had taken to folding up his ridiculously long legs into the confines of the chair and resting with his head on the arm.

Which is where he'd curled up tonight, his Belstaff coat draped over himself to keep out the chill. Molly looked at the sleeping man with a fond smile. He'd tried so hard to be the perfect Best Man for John, and those who knew Sherlock well could see that the entire day had been uncomfortable and challenging for him. Nobody could blame John for being so caught up in the reception that he'd missed his Best Man's early departure, but Molly had seen Sherlock's face and her heart had broken a little at the solitude and distance writ large on the face that usually showed so little.

The comforting smell of hot chocolate wafted from the kitchen, another routine they'd established in the months he'd stayed with her. Her making tea in the morning before work, and him having hot chocolate waiting for her when she returned. An unspoken 'welcome home' that had garnered forgiveness for a variety of disasters that befell the flat in her absence. She poured two cups, returning to the sitting room and sitting at the foot of Sherlock's chair, knowing the scent of chocolate and her perfume would permeate his dream and summon him back to the waking world.

The rhyming breathing became shallower and was finally broken with a drowsy but still deep and resonant, "Molly..... What time is it?"

"A little after midnight." Molly handed the other cup back over her shoulder to have it taken from her.

"Thanks. Sorry for turning up unannounced." There was genuine regret in the voice, he'd learned to respect the boundaries they'd established.

"You Ok?"

"No."

"Ok." Molly continued sipping from her cup and resisted the urge to turn around and face the man in the chair. Some conversations were easier with a little scrap of anonymity preserved. She knew Sherlock would continue when he was ready.

"Alone used to protect me Molls. Now it just hurts. Why is that?"

Molly smiled at the pet name. At the lab and in the company of others she was Molly Hooper, professional and respectful, but here in the flat she'd become Molls a long time ago after a spirited discussion on the sentimentality of the practice of pet names had ended in them jokingly 'trying out' a few. Hers had stuck, his had not.

Molly thought carefully about how to reply to Sherlock's question. Friendship was new to the solitary man, and it would be easy for him to withdraw again if not presented with a persuasive argument to push through the emotionally difficult aspects.

She tried, "It hurts because now you know what you're missing. You weren't aware of the missing piece before.....before all this."

"Hmmmm." The tone was non-committal, and clearly unconvinced.

She tried again, "Look at it this way Sherlock. Why did you come here tonight?"

"I couldn't face Baker Street, not by myself."

"And what would you have done before my flat was an option?"

"I....don't know."

"You DO know," Molly challenged. Sherlock had learned that although it often appeared that Molly acquiesced easily, she in fact had a core of steel when it mattered.

The hair at the nape of her neck shifted as Sherlock's heavy snort disturbed her hair, "Yes, you're right, I would have gone looking for drugs."

"And would that have been better?"

"No, of course not," Sherlock leaned forward in the chair without sitting up and encircled Molly's frame with his long arms, one in the curve of her neck and the other slipping under her arm on the other side. and Molly leaned back into the embrace, "I keep forgetting how clearly you see things. I've missed this......missed you."

"Me too." Molly added. Although they'd agreed to keep their relationship strictly platonic while they lived together, the enforced nearness and shared secrets had afforded them a sense of physical comfort with each other. She'd become distressingly addicted to the feel of his arms around her while watching TV wrapped in the thick comforter from the bed, and she'd taken a perverse pleasure in ogling him as he stalked around the house in various states of undress, seemingly unconcerned with personal modesty. She'd never stopped hoping that one day they'd take the next step, and she was almost sure Sherlock had felt the same. Days passed, opportunities were missed and before she knew it, he was gone.

They lapsed into silence for a while as they quietly found comfort in the familiar presence of the other before Sherlock gently disengaged and murmured, "I suppose I'll need to learn to do without this too. I doubt Tom would appreciate this little scene."

"Tom's.....gone home." 

"I thought this was home." Sherlock's voice held a quiet tension, as if he needed confirmation of a suspected hypothesis.

"It is home. But it's not Tom's home, I thought it was...I hoped it was...but it's not." Molly turned so she could look at Sherlock properly, to ensure her message was clear, "Sometimes we try and convince ourselves that you can be happy with an imitation, but when you've seen the real thing then a fake is always going to be a disappointment. Tom deserves someone who won't compare him to.....anyone else." Molly knew she was blushing, but knew Sherlock needed honesty tonight.

"I'm sorry Molly. I didn't intend to....."

"Of course you didn't Sherlock." Molly leaned to place a hand on his hip, "Don't for a moment think this is your fault. You've been nothing but gracious since you've returned. Some sociopath you turned out to be, you big faker." She added with a giggle, "You clearly wanted to give me my best chance at happiness, just like John and Mary. But sometimes you just have to be honest with yourself and admit what you want, perhaps the results might surprise you."

"I want....." Sherlock frowned and trailed off.

"Go on Sherlock, ask." Molly pushed.

"I want....to come home."

Close she thought, "And where is home Sherlock?"

"Home is here.....if you'll let me." He reached out his arms hopefully.

"Of course I'll let you..." She leaned forward into the welcoming hug before adding, "but I'm not giving up my room this time."

Sherlock looked affronted, "We agreed I needed the extra space."

"....and I'm changing the agreement. But I'm willing to compromise."

Sherlock looked at her suspiciously, "Your compromise being.....?"

"You could share it with me....." Molly looked away surprised at her own boldness, but unwilling to forgo the chance.

A broad grin spread across Sherlock's face, lighting up his eyes and for a moment Molly feared he was going to laugh at her before he nuzzled his nose against her neck and chuckled, "Always a surprise to me. Just when I think I have you worked out, you amaze me."

"Does that mean..." She asked hesitantly.

"God yes. I'd love to share your bed Molls. After all, I've been reliable informed that..." He smiled and tried for an impression of her own voice, "...you've been 'having rather a lot of sex' recently and I'd quite like you to continue that habit with me."

She giggled as she snuggled against him, warm and safe. This wasn't the night to take things further as tempting as the idea of tumbling into bed together may be. Tom deserved a proper end to their relationship before she and Sherlock had a chance to build something new. She was reasonably sure another day or two of waiting wouldn't kill them, although the way Sherlock was dotting the top of her head with kisses and gently tugging her up onto his lap was convincing her that the conversation with Tom had best be as soon as possible.

"Sherlock.....just a second...just..." Molly giggled and wrestled to put a couple of inches between them as Sherlock darted in to kiss her neck, "Sherlock...."

"Mmm?" He lifted his head, hair already gloriously ruffled, and looked at her.

Molly held up her hand, waggling her finger with the engagement ring in front of his face, "Sherlock, I need to finish things with Tom first. I want you just as much as you want me, I just....I need to make a clean break with Tom. Ok?"

Sherlock made a dramatic show of rolling his eyes and sighing giving a theatrical frown before breaking into a grin and nodding solemnly, "I'd expect no less from you Molly Hooper. I give you my word that I won't 'besmirch your virtue' until you grant me leave to do so." 

Sherlock stood, lifting Molly seemingly effortlessly and carried her to her bedroom, putting her down gently on the top of the quilt. "Go to sleep Molls. I'll wait, but not forever...so to encourage you to sort things out......" Sherlock leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, gently at first but not tentatively. He reached a hand around to cup the back of her neck, splaying his fingers into her hair. Molly pressed upward, guided by his hand, and opened her lips as she felt his tongue request entrance. There was a feeling of subtle dominance as he kissed her, knowledgable and assured, but not aggressive or overbearing. It was a kiss of promise and temptation and as he pulled away, Molly was left in no doubt that the lesson she'd just been given was that the faster she could resolve things with Tom, the better off she'd be. 

As Molly caught her breath, a little dazed, Sherlock grinned wickedly down at her, leaned to kiss her briefly on the forehead, whispered "Sleep well Molly" and was gone before she could reply. She heard the front door close as he left shortly afterward and she lay awake and contemplated the dawn.


End file.
